"You do not want to hand this over to Belfort?"
"No, no! A hundred times no!" Nichoune shook her head vigorously.
"But why?"
"Because ... because I don't want to do it any more! There!"
"Come now, Nichoune, what is your reason? You must have one."
This time the singer got up as though she would go off at once.
"Reasons?" she cried. "Look here, Vagualame, it's better to tell you the truth! Very well, then, spying is not my strong point! It is three months since I began it—since you enticed me into it ... and life is not worth living.... I am in a constant state of terror—I am afraid of being caught at it. They say: 'Do this—Do that!' I am always seeing new agents ... you come—you go—you disappear—it's maddening! I have already broken with my lover ... with Vinson! I don't want to be on such terms with anyone mixed up in your spying, I can tell you!... In the first place, there's something wrong with my heart, and to live in such a perpetual state of terror is very bad for me ... so you have got to understand, Vagualame—I say it straight out—I don't go on with it.... I would rather go to the magistrate and put myself completely outside this abominable business—there! That's all about it!"
It was impossible to mistake the meaning of these decisive words. Here was not the spy who sought to increase his pay by threatening to reveal everything; it was the spy who is obsessed with the fear of being taken, who no longer wishes to continue his dreadful work—to follow his nefarious calling.
Vagualame gave no sign of surprise.
"Listen, my pretty one! You are at perfect liberty to do what seems good to you, and if you have just come in for some money!"...